


In Which Punz Never Shows

by penink



Series: In Which Things Go Awry and the Good Guys Lose [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dream is doing his worst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Not real people, Pandora's Vault, Sam is doing his best, be warned, but this time we don't even escape, enjoy, go away if you take it as such please, i apologize in advance for the tragedy, i kill Tubbo again, lots of suicidal thoughts!!!, no catharsis, nothing i ever write for dream smp is shippy, their CHARACTERS - Freeform, this fic is cruel and unhappy and unsatisfying, this is about roleplay, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:33:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29794035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penink/pseuds/penink
Summary: “I’m the hero of this goddamn story, [Dream]! And the hero gets the reward!”“No, [Tommy], the hero pays the price”-Adapted from The Magicians, Lev Grossman
Series: In Which Things Go Awry and the Good Guys Lose [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2189997
Kudos: 17





	In Which Punz Never Shows

Tommy is untethered. His reality feels blurred around the edges, but maybe that’s easier than the agony awaiting him. _He slit his throat. Tubbo bled out in your arms. He’s dead. His corpse is beside you and you are alone with Dream._ Tommy didn’t look at the body. He just stared at the cold stone beneath him. He’s exhausted, but he hasn’t stopped resisting.

“P-Please don’t make me leave him. Please, I can’t leave him alone down here,” Tommy stumbles back sharply when Dream takes a step forward, pleading like it would make a difference, voice trembling with messy, hysterical sobs and Dream shows no pity. 

Dream looks so amused, maybe faint irritation as Tommy continued to protest. 

“It was funny the first few times. Just get up. I know you don’t _really_ want me to leave you down here with him.” Dream laughs, “I mean, imagine the smell.” 

Tommy’s anger wakes up. Blood still dripping into his eyes, his knees cold and aching against the stone, and he still gets up one more time. Dream, rather than angered, seems delighted. Tommy lunges forward, grappling with the axe, thinking if he can just get it out of his hands, he can bash in Dream’s skull through his armor, he can keep fighting until Dream finally has to kill him. 

Dream shoves him away easily. Tommy trips backwards over something, hitting the ground hard. Tommy’s anger gets caught in his throat, his legs tangled on top of Tubbo’s unmoving body. 

“I don’t know if you’re surprising or predictable,” Dream shakes his head. “Guess you wouldn’t be a hero if you gave up easy, right?” 

Tommy ignores him, hands trembling as he reaches out to Tubbo. He’s still warm to the touch. Tommy wishes he were numb. He’s holding onto fistfuls of Tubbo’s shirt, burying his face in his bloodsoaked shoulder. He cannot let go. He just wants Tubbo to hug him back. 

“Come on, this is just pathetic.” Dream sighs. He’s reaffixed his mask, that cold, unforgiving smile is too whole. Tommy shows no sign of moving, just holding onto Tubbo, trembling with sobs. They were desperate tears, not the kind that rose up willingly. Tommy couldn’t do anything else. 

_They never showed. Punz didn’t care or he didn’t see it or you fucked up. Maybe Punz really didn’t know anything. You’re fucking alone down here and no one knows where you are. No one is coming to save you. And none of that matters because Tubbo isn’t breathing._

Dream grew tired of waiting, he grabs onto Tommy’s arm, moving to drag him towards the nether portal. 

“No!” Tommy just holds onto Tubbo tighter. Dream pries him off like a petulant toddler clinging to a toy, like Tommy’s grief is childish, inconvenient. “D-Don’t you make me leave him. _Please_ don’t make me leave him– _Please, no!_ ” Tommy is screaming, there is no anger or bravery in it, there’s only distraught desperation, anguish that can only be quantified through that pain, through clawing at stone as Dream drags him away from his best friend. Tommy has something clutched in his fist; a red bandana soaked in blood, it sticks to his hand. He doesn’t let go. 

Dream has Tommy by the throat, he’s too strong, Tommy clawing at him, still trying to get free even as he knows there is nowhere to go. Dream didn’t seem to mind this, he didn’t slow or pause, until Tommy started trying to tear his mask off. There was nothing to be gained in doing so, but Tommy needed to do something, not to fight back, but to know any sense of control was tangible, to pretend he wasn’t a puppet getting dragged off stage right. 

Dream slams him into the side of the nether portal, knocking the wind out of him with a gasp. After the day he’s had, he might already have cracked ribs. 

“You sure you want to do that?” He pauses, letting go enough that Tommy can breathe again. Tommy says nothing. “You’re not going to get what you want. And we both know this can get a lot worse,” Dream is calm, the cold anger underneath is dangerous. Tommy doesn’t care. 

“I‘m not a hero…” Tommy’s voice is so hoarse. “You don’t want me. P-Please. Just kill me– Come on. I’m no fun like this. S-So just end it.” 

Dream laughs. “What about this isn’t _fun_ , Tommy? I’m _winning_.” 

Tommy can still see Tubbo’s corpse. He looks so small, surrounded by empty space and blood. His best friend doesn’t look like a person anymore, he looks like a broken doll. Tommy is almost relieved he can’t see Tubbo’s eyes. He holds onto the red bandana tighter. 

Tommy doesn’t respond, but he stops struggling too. Dream presses on, his hold on Tommy’s arm harsh enough to bruise. The portal shifts the world around them until dry, hot air replaces the stark cold of Dream’s vault. 

Tommy’s exhaustion dims as he sees the harsh glow of the lava. _Jump. You can do it. Once you get close enough all you have to do is pull away. He’s stronger than you but you can get free. Just long enough to–_

“I know you want to. You won’t get the chance,” Dream didn’t seem perturbed by Tommy’s plans to fall to his death. Tommy is far more disconcerted by Dream cutting off his way out, a chain around his wrists now keeping him tethered to Dream. “We could’ve just walked there together, you’re the one who made me do this.” 

“Why won’t you let me?” Tommy doesn’t even try to pull away, a fleeting thought of _just break your wrist_ crossed his mind, but Dream would stop him before he gets the chance. 

Dream chuckles. “I’m not ending the game early. I’ve put work into preparing the next round, I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” 

Tommy flinches. Against his own bidding, when he sees the main portal he almost feels hope. _No one came to save you. No one is going to save you. Tubbo is dead. It doesn’t matter anymore._

“We might see someone, Tommy. But you’re not gonna say something, are you?” Dream sounds almost cordial as they enter the Greater SMP. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” 

Dream’s hand on his arm squeezes tight enough to hurt, “because if you do, I’ll hurt them.” 

Tommy feels sick. He’s torn. Part of him desperately hopes someone, _anyone_ will stumble across him being dragged up the prime path. He also is terrified someone will and he’ll have to watch them die too. He wishes he could scream, that all of his old friends would come to his aid. The probability of him finding someone who has a chance against Dream is slim to none. Maybe no one would help him even if they did see him. 

Tommy stops as they pass the white mansion by the water, great walls of black stone not far off. He digs his heels in, his heart in his throat. He thought he’d gone at least a little numb as his one shot at suicide was cut away from him. Apparently not. He yanks away from Dream, trying to stumble back, breathing heavily, sobs returning, he had almost forgotten about the taste of blood in his mouth. 

Dream laughs, pulling him back like a dog on a leash. “Aw, you getting nervous? Don’t worry, Tommy. I made this prison with you in mind.” 

Tommy didn’t feel like he had the right to be terrified. He has nothing left to lose, but that daunting, monstrous black stone made his knees weak. Dream drags him forward, not caring when Tommy fell or staggered. 

“P-Please, Dream– Please, I’m sorry– I’m sorry, okay? Y-You aren’t gonna forgive, I-I know that, I know. Can’t you just kill me? Y-You killed– You took Tubbo away from me. Isn’t that enough? Oh, fuck– Why can’t that be enough?!” Tommy stops fighting back physically, but he couldn’t stop himself from pleading for some form of mercy. 

Tommy sees no one and no exits, and then they’re standing inside the entrance to the prison. Tommy’s chest feels incredibly tight, but he has a pang of desperate hope. _Sam._ Sam didn’t hate him. He... 

He won’t be able to do anything. Even if he refuses to let Dream in the prison, even Sam can’t save him. 

Dream presses the button. He’s too confident, his back turned to Tommy. Tommy knows he can’t run away in chains, but couldn’t he wrap the chain around Dream’s neck? Kill him first? 

Tommy wants to give up. He wants to stop moving, stop being. _He killed Tubbo. And he’s not coming back this time._

Tommy doesn’t know how Dream realizes, whether Tommy’s eerie silence was a giveaway or if Dream just always _knows_ , but before he can wrap the chain around his neck, Dream has him, catching the chain and using it to throw him to the ground, stepping on it so Tommy is forced to remain there, wrists aching from the painful pull. 

“Hello?” Sam’s puzzled tone pierces through the tension. 

Dream drags Tommy back to his feet with a whimper, but Dream doesn’t hit him, just holds onto his arm. 

“You’re gonna keep your mouth shut while the adults are talking, got it?” Dream speaks softly, enough that Sam can’t hear him. “ _Got it?_ ” Dream shakes him roughly when he doesn’t respond, stopping only when Tommy shakily nods. 

“Dream? Is that you? What’re you doing over here?” Sam pressed. 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I have something for you.” 

“What? What do you mean?” Sam sounds nervous, like he too knows Dream always comes with an edge. 

“I mean open the portal.” 

“...Can you tell me why first?” 

“Because this is my prison. And I’m telling you _open the portal_ ,” there is a more than subtle threat behind those words. 

“Yeah… yeah come on through,” Sam reluctantly obliged. 

Tommy shuts his eyes as they enter the nether once more, but the room they find themselves in is bare and simple, indistinguishable from the entry lobby they’d just left. There’s nowhere to jump from here either. 

“Dream, why are you here?” Sam stops them once more in the middle lobby. 

“We’ll talk once you let me through, Sam,” Dream lets out his irritation through how tightly he’s holding onto Tommy’s arm. Tommy didn’t speak up or protest, not simply because of Dream’s threats, but because he wanted to see Sam. He wanted to see _someone_ who didn’t want to hurt him. 

“Fine. Fine, it’s open now. 

“Seriously, Dream, what’s all this…” Sam stared at the two of them, eyes wide. “...about.” Sam doesn’t look like his usual self. Decked out in armor, trident at his side. He looks almost scary, if not for the concern in his eyes. “What is this?” His confused curiosity is cold now, dark suspicion ill containing fear. 

“I’ve got our first prisoner here, Warden,” Dream throws Tommy forward, he hits the Blackstone floor with a yelp, his knees sure to bruise. He’s breathing heavily, too scared to try and stand and even more scared of what he’ll see on Sam’s face if he dares to look up. _He can’t help you. He can’t help you. He can’t help you. No one can help you._

“What the hell is going on? Why is he like that? Tommy, why are you like this?” Sam goes to kneel down and help Tommy to his feet. 

“I wouldn’t do that, Sam. Just leave him there for now. He’s not going to answer you,” Dream seems amused by Sam’s concern, satisfied that he’s right and Tommy is silent. 

“What do you mean ‘he’s not going to answer’ me? You’ve got some explaining to do. What did you do to him? Whose–“ Sam’s voice shakes as the true source of his fear surfaces. “Whose blood is that? It’s not either of yours. You wouldn’t be standing if it was, so whose is it?!” 

“It’s not important,” Dream steps up to meet Sam, unintimidated. “It’s time for you to actually do your job.” 

“ _Whose blood is it?_ ” Sam asks again firmly. Dream says nothing. Tommy still refuses to look up, but he can imagine the two of them staring each other down. Tommy knows Dream will win. He _always_ wins. 

“I think you should trust me on this, _Warden_. Do the smart thing,” Dream’s voice is level and oh so dangerous. 

“Are you kidding– I’m not gonna trust you on this until I hear things from Tommy. You still haven’t even told me what he _did._ Don’t you know how suspicious this looks?” Sam waits for Dream to retort. Dream says nothing. Tommy flinches when Sam kneels down in front of him. Sam is decked out in gear much like Dream is. It’s too easy for Sam to hurt him too. Tommy hates being at the mercy of others, even when he desperately hopes Sam can somehow help him. 

“Tommy?” Sam doesn’t reach out to him, he keeps his distance. Sam can’t tell from the blood covering Tommy’s front, but it’s not hard to guess he’s injured more than the bloody bruise over his eye and his split lip. The chains around his wrists, his hands trembling, leaves Sam feeling sick. “It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. Can you tell me what’s happened?” 

“I wouldn’t–” 

“You can just shut up, Dream,” Sam snaps. He softens when Tommy flinches even at that. _What the hell happened?_ “Let me…” Sam reaches forward, looking at Tommy carefully if he should try and pull away. He took the chains from his wrists. _This is one of ours. Why was Dream planning on arresting Tommy?_

“I didn’t say you could do that,” Dream says coldly. 

“I don’t need your permission,” Sam offers Tommy a hand. Tommy almost doesn’t take it, glancing to Dream for the first time since entering the prison. If Dream is going to punish him for taking Sam’s hand, not taking it just means Dream has to wait until Tommy messes up some other way to hurt him. As if Dream even needs an excuse anymore. Tommy takes his hand. 

“Dream, I think you should leave. I’ll take Tommy home,” Sam is unwavering. Maybe he’s brave, maybe he’s just stupid. Tommy doesn’t know if there’s a difference anymore. 

Dream laughs. “You don’t get to give me orders. I commissioned you, you do what I say.” 

“And I’m the Warden. I decide who gets locked up in here and right now the most suspicious person here is you,” Sam keeps a hand on Tommy’s shoulder. He’s gentle. He’s not holding onto Tommy, simply offering him some stability. 

Dream tilts his head slightly, that minute reaction is enough to make Tommy shudder and look away. 

“How’s Fran doing, Sam?” 

Four words and Sam lets go of Tommy’s shoulder, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, everything about his demeanor changing in an instant. 

They can’t see his face, but surely Dream is smiling. “Still tucked away in that _secret_ base you shared with George, right?” 

Sam is struggling to contain his panic, looking stunned. 

Dream continues. “Don’t blame George, alright? He didn’t show it to me, he just… wasn’t too good about making sure he wasn’t followed.” 

Sam moves to leave, Dream puts a hand on his chest. The sheer confidence he holds is unnerving. Sam stares back at him, something truly dangerous behind his eyes. Whatever scolding authority Sam had before is replaced by terrified rage. Dream is unphased. “I know you want to run off and check on her, how about you do this for me first?” 

“If you’ve hurt her- if she’s dead-“ 

“Why would I hurt her, Sam? Let alone kill her?” Dream seems offended. “I’m not stupid. What would the point of that be? You could call me cruel, sure.” Sam didn’t look at Tommy when Dream said this, but it was like he almost did, like he realizes this is not merely a hostage situation, it’s a trade off. “...but I’m not _stupid_.” 

“What do you want me to do, Dream?” Sam’s voice is softer now, guilty as he finally caves. 

Tommy hadn’t even realized he had the strength to feel some sense of relief until it was stripped away from him. For a split second Tommy had dared to consider Sam might protect him. He should’ve known better. _He’s going to hurt you too. If Dream asks he’ll have to. No one cares about you enough to protect you. No one left alive, at least._

“We’re going to put Tommy here in the main cell,” Dream said. “Don’t look so sullen, Sam. You’re doing the right thing. For Fran and for Tommy.” 

Sam’s jaw tenses under his helmet. His hand is still on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll do as you ask, but you’re staying here.” 

“Hmmm. No, I don’t think so. All this work, I want to see the fallout.” 

“The _fallout?_ ” 

“I mean, yeah. This is… the fruits of our labor. Finally, right?” Dream is still so cordial. 

“You can come with us to an _extent._ You’re not coming with us all the way. You know that’s not unreasonable,” Sam pushed. It was unspoken, but Sam caved too quickly. He needed Dream in his sights should he decide to take this time to go after Fran. 

“Fair enough,” Dream raised his hands passively. He takes a step towards Tommy, who flinches but doesn’t bother trying to pull away. Sam puts his trident across, blocking Dream’s path. 

“You told me to do my job, Dream. So let me do my job,” there’s a threat to those words. Dream lets it slide. “You need to put all of your belongings in a locker.” 

Dream laughs. “That’s not gonna happen. What am I going to do, Sam? Break out the guy I’m putting in here? I’m in charge here, so maybe you should stop pretending otherwise.” 

Sam has no response, he just pulls a lever on the wall, opening the next locked door. Tommy still doesn’t react. He just lets Sam gently escort him deeper into the building. It’s all blurry. He knows Dream is standing right behind him and he knows where he’s going, but he just wants to fade out. It was easier to think about this than the blood on his hands. 

“Aren’t you going to search him?” Dream irritatingly cuts in as Sam intends to move forward. 

Sam sighs. “Search him for _what?_ You’ve taken everything from him. That’s abundantly clear.” 

“I thought you were going to _do your job_ ,” Dream sneers. 

“Yep. And he’ll be searched when I set his spawn. You’re not going that far,” Sam refuses to yield. They might as well play tug-of-war with him for all the good it does. Tommy is helpless either way. 

“Fine, _Warden_ ,” Dream says it mockingly. 

Tommy feels sick, staring captivated at the lava, a floor rising up to cover it. The only thing that stops him from jumping is Sam. Not because Sam is holding onto him, but simply because he’s terrified of what Dream might do to Sam once his favorite toy is dead. 

There’s too much lava. 

Sam seems frozen. He doesn’t want Dream to come with him behind the scenes, he doesn’t want him to traverse the ravine of lava with Tommy. 

“Dream, this is where we leave you,” Sam decides on. 

“What? Why?” Dream snaps. 

“You’re not visiting the prisoner, and I need to finish processing him,” Sam remains cool and calm, like a parent mellowing an unruly child. 

“And?” 

“And you told me to do my job,” Sam’s tone is deadly. Dream is deadlier. 

“Except I don’t _trust_ you, Sam,” Dream sighs. “So I need to make sure this gets done. It’s too easy for you to just… not set his spawn and take him home later. And we can’t have that, can we? I mean,” Dream tilts his head, somehow conveying mocking pity and disappointment in a single motion, “if I don’t have Tommy, I’ll just have to play with Fran, right?” 

“If you do _anything_ to hurt her–” 

“How about you make sure I don’t have a reason to,” Dream cuts him off. 

“Fine. You’re still technically a visitor, you take the ravine. Even if you’re keeping your damn armor on,” Sam says coldly. He wishes he was just angry. He wishes he wasn’t terrified. 

“Fine by me,” Dream raises his hands passively. 

Sam takes Tommy through the side door, not the ravine of lava. It’s the only mercy he can offer, protocol be damned. He has to take him up to where he’ll set his spawn anyway. It’s a small chamber, one really meant for one time use. A prisoner meant for this cell isn’t supposed to leave. 

_You’ll get him out. No fucking clue how, but by god you’re gonna get him out._

Dream joins them on the other side, unburnt and just as cocky as he was before. Sam reluctantly leads both of them through a narrow side passage, the heat of the lava only a few blocks away is enough for the corridor to feel just a bit too warm and dry. Sam stops Dream just outside the room. 

“You told me I had to search him. You’ll wait outside,” Sam kept a hand on Dream’s shoulder, physically stopping him. Sam was surprised by his own bravery. 

Dream chuckled. “Fine, Warden. You’re just following _protocol,_ right?” There’s a threat behind those words. Sam will worry about that later. 

Sam gets Dream out of the room as fast as possible, locking the door behind them, a foot of blackstone sliding into place. Even Dream can’t make trouble alone in a hallway. He hopes. Tommy doesn’t seem any less tense. In fact, he’s seemed nothing but numb since he’d first come through the portal. 

“I’m not actually gonna search you,” Sam tries to reassure him. Tommy doesn’t react. “Tommy. Please. Can you tell me what’s happened?” Sam asks as carefully as he can, but he needs to know. He goes to put a hand on Tommy’s arm, to try and get him to focus on something besides whatever dark thoughts he’s drowning in. He stops. Tommy has an awful, dark bruise forming. It looks like a handprint, curled around his upper arm. Dream had held onto him tight enough to _bruise._ “What did he _do_ to you, Tommy?” Sam wishes he sounded stronger, but he’s so worried about this kid who won’t even look at him. 

Tommy just stares at the ground. If he moves an inch or says a word of his own bidding, he’ll wake up. And the pain of it all will finally hit him. Better to be numb. It was like exile, at some point Tommy just… wasn’t present in his own body anymore. It was easier than living in the shame, the guilt, the hunger, the burns and bruises of those terrible weeks. Until even that became too much for him. Dream had seen him adapting and pushed even harder. No point in toying someone who was for all intents and purposes dead to the world. It was harder to stay numb now. Maybe cause he knew eventually even this would fade. There was no ending in sight, not even from a jump off the edge. 

“Tommy, _please._ Dream isn’t here right now. Okay? He can’t hurt you. I won’t let him. Whose… Whose blood is that?” Sam tries again. 

That’s enough for Tommy to react, a horrible question written all over his skin, the answer held in his fist. Tommy staggers back against the obsidian wall, sinking to the floor, he just shakes his head. 

“Okay. It’s gonna be okay,” Sam can’t force Tommy to speak. He rummages through his inventory. “You look like hell. Come on– Can you just drink this?” He hands Tommy a health potion, thinking of that vibrant bruise marking Tommy as Dream’s. Sam wants it gone, he wants Tommy to _know_ it’s gone. “Please.” 

Tommy doesn’t drink. He just stares at the bottle in his hands. 

“He killed Tubbo.” 

Sam feels like his brain is short circuiting. Tommy’s words just will not compute. “What’d… What do you mean, Tommy?” He asks hoarsely. 

Tommy sets the health potion aside and uncurls his right hand which had been balled in a fist for so long his hand ached. He has a bloody red bandana, the twin to the green one around his neck. The one meant to be worn by Tubbo. 

“Oh… Oh my god– Oh my god–” Sam stumbles back, hitting the wall across from him, chest heaving. “Shit– He– Tubbo is–” 

“He’s dead. Dream killed him.” 

“Oh my god–” Sam pulls off his helmet, feeling like his armor is crushing him. _He’s killed Tubbo. Tommy is going to be locked away. He can and will hurt Fran. And it’s down to you to fix this._

“Sam, I need you to promise me something,” Tommy finally seems in focus, an eerie calm taking over. Sam stares, waiting for him to continue. “I want you to kill me. But I know that’s a hard ask– so just. Please do everything you can to not let him see me. Please keep him away.” Tommy glances furtively at the sealed door. “I-I’d rather be alone in a cell than let him near me again. _Please._ ” 

“Hell, Tommy– I’m getting you out of here. I promise you, I’m gonna find a way to get you out of here. I just– Fran is all I have. I need to know she’s safe first,” Sam is trying to justify himself. He hates how cruel this feels. 

It’s the strangest thing. It almost looks like Tommy _pities_ him. 

“What?” Sam’s panic has yet to die in the slightest and this only makes it worse. He’s already lost one friend in the last minute, he doesn’t need to be told he’s destined to lose another. “Tommy, _what?_ ” 

“I’m not saying she’s dead already. But…” Tommy shakes his head, eyes shut tightly. “You can’t get her back. You’ll do everything he says, you’ll promise to be good, and he’ll hurt her just to prove he can.” 

Sam was rarely rendered terrified, the kind of insidious terror that burrowed in deep under the skin, sinking its claws in until it swallows everything in that hopelessness. He can’t help Tommy. He can’t protect Fran. 

He couldn’t save Tubbo. 

_No. No, we don’t give up. Especially not on Fran._

“Tommy, I am going to get you out of here,” his voice shakes, a tiny tremor, not a moment of weakness, but something stirring, an understanding that this promise came with a price. It is overshadowed by a cold conviction that maybe Tommy even believed in for a second. 

Tommy stares at him and Sam hates that there’s no trust behind those eyes, no faith, only a dull exhaustion. Tommy is still covered in blood, covered in _Tubbo’s_ blood. 

“I… I don’t have any water, but once you get down there you’ll be able to get cleaned up. You want to keep that, right?” He nods to the bloody bandana. Sam has to be professional and systematic. That’s easier than thinking about the terrible straits they find themselves in. 

“Yeah,” Tommy is too quiet, just staring at the bloody thing in his fist. It’s like he’s carrying around a piece of Tubbo’s corpse. He’s not going to let go. 

“You’ll need to… you’ll need to put it on. I’m going to have to make sure you don’t have anything in your inventory when you set your spawn. That’s how you’ll be sent to the main cell. And if you’re wearing it it’ll carry over with you as clothing,” Sam can explain mechanics. It’s easy compared to anything else. 

“What’d you mean? Are you… I’m down to my last life, Sam. If you kill me...” Tommy sounds almost hopeful. Sam hates it. 

“No, no it feels like dying, kind of, but it’s just going to send you across. It’s not a death,” Sam wishes he was reassuring him. He wishes Tommy didn’t look so disappointed. “This is temporary, Tommy. I swear it.” 

Tommy nods, but it’s like he’s just going through the motions. He finally drinks the health potion. The wounds recede, but the blood staining him remains. 

“I… I don’t want to leave you alone,” Sam doesn’t know why he says it. It won’t change anything. He can’t be looking for reassurance from a grieving teenager, but he doesn’t know what other point there could be to this. 

“You’re gonna go look for Fran. I know,” Tommy is so resigned. He’s so impossibly _hopeless_. “I need to warn you, Sam. She’s not gonna be where you left her.” 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Sam knows it won’t actually hurt Tommy, maybe for a split second, but he doesn’t want to do this. 

There’s a bed tucked into a crevice in the obsidian. Tommy sets his spawn. 

“Tommy…” Sam doesn’t know what to say. 

“It’s okay, Sam. Do what you have to.” 

Sam doesn’t draw his sword, instead he pulls Tommy into a hug. Tommy tenses for a moment before holding onto him just as tightly, not minding the armor digging in as he closes his eyes and leans into the embrace. Tommy can’t help but think of Wilbur. As if he needs any more open wounds. Sam can feel his trembling exhale as he lets out a sob. Sam doesn’t want to let go of him. He wants to hold onto Tommy and let him just feel safe for a moment without consequence. 

Tommy pulls away first, not bothering to wipe his eyes as tears dampened the dried blood still on his face. “Well. Bring him back in, then. He needs to see this done.” 

Sam doesn’t want to, but he fetches Dream, who had the audacity to look bored standing outside the room. 

“Aw, Sam, you made him cry,” Dream mockingly scolds him. Tommy hates that despite all the grief and the pain, his cheeks still flush red. Dream already knows he’s weak and vulnerable and terrified, but mocking him for it is just too much to bear. _All_ of this is too much to bear. Dream tuts him quietly, “you healed him, Sam. Why’d you do that?” 

Sam bristles at the implication that he’s done something wrong. “He’s my responsibility now. I need to make sure he’s okay.” 

“No, _you_ need to make sure he’s learning his lesson, not undoing my work.” _My work._ Beating a kid senseless, leaving bruises from just holding onto him so brutally tight, that’s his _work?_ Dream turns to Tommy. “I’ll see you later then, Tommy,” Dream steps towards him, he stumbles back, Sam steps between them, shielding Tommy best he can. Dream laughs. “Jeez, I’m just trying to say goodbye…” 

Sam is haunted by the same dreadful thought he’d carried since Dream and Tommy had first arrived. _He’s hurt this kid somehow. And it’s been this way for too long._

“You’ve said enough,” Sam snaps at Dream. Dream backs off and al there’s left to do is finish the job. He faces Tommy, not knowing what he’s going to say. “Tommy…” 

“Fuck– Just do it, Sam.” Tommy remains staring at the ground. He doesn’t want to see. He doesn’t want to see Dream _watching_ and knowing he’s won. He feels the blade, but it doesn’t _hurt_ , not really. And then he’s in freefall. 

“Thank you, Sam. For holding up your end of the deal,” Dream seems only smug when Tommy disappears. 

“And your end?” Sam doesn’t know what he can expect. 

“I didn’t make any promises. I just offered some… incentive,” Dream heads into the hall. “I’ll be back soon. First I’ll just let Tommy… mull things over.” 

Sam wants to pretend Dream is still rational. That he could ask about Fran and Dream’s intentions, or that he could ask what the hell happened to Tubbo. Sam needed to bide his time. Tommy is trapped in a box, but he’s safe for now. Physically, at least. He doesn’t want to think about what must be going through that kid’s head right about now. He just needed to make sure Dream left and lock the door behind him. He doesn’t tell Dream anything, he doesn’t tell him he isn’t allowed to visit, once the man is outside the prison walls he’ll be free to run to his base to check on Fran. 

Tommy had told him what would be waiting for him. He doesn’t want to believe it. 

By the time Sam has snuck his way back outside Dream is gone. Dark omens. He’ll only be leaving Tommy alone for a matter of hours, a day tops, but he still felt awful. Not that he would stop. He needed to see what happened to Fran for himself. 

His base was so far removed, he had been so careful. Sam was almost angry with George– _how_ could he not realize he was being followed? Traversing half the nether for fucks sake– he’s colorblind, he’s not _blind._

Nothing in his base seems disturbed. He’s spent so much time at the prison that it feels like it isn’t even a home to him anymore. He made his way downstairs to Fran’s kennel, the hidden door is unbroken. That doesn’t mean his worst fears haven’t been realized. He sees white fur curled in the corner and for a moment he’s relieved. _She’s safe._ That relief died the moment he went to pet her. This dog just stares at him, sitting patiently on the floor waiting for its master. _That’s not Fran._ Sam recoils, for a split second he had truly believed she was okay. That momentary lie was so much crueler than simply taking her away from him. This dog just stares at him blankly, no recognition, no getting up to greet him after he pet it, just nothing. Sam reaches out and checks its nametag. His hands are shaking. 

_A placeholder._

He’d already known Dream was a sick bastard, but him treating pets like objects, replaceable _things_ to be tossed around like bargaining chips– He can only hope she’s okay. Dream said he wouldn’t hurt her. _Dream has done a lot of things you wouldn’t expect from him._ Sam doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do now. How can he help Tommy if he can’t rescue Fran? How is he going to find her?! Surely the moment Dream realizes he’s poking his nose where it doesn’t belong, he’ll do something horrible like send him a piece of her. Sam shudders. He’s backed into a corner, complicit in hurting a kid, his own creation turned against him and used for evil intent. There’s nowhere to go from here. 

He can’t do this. 

\- 

Tommy is gasping for breath, shaking water out of his hair and getting to his feet on shaky legs. The room is both too bright and too dark, black obsidian walls, but a sheet of lava covering one side. 

“S-Sam?” He sputters, stepping out of the small pool and into the cell. It’s not that small of a room, if it weren’t for the fact that Tommy’s entire world is this cell indefinitely. There is no reply. This is a strange, unnatural silence. The lava doesn’t quite bubble, but the way it flows is like white noise, layers and layers of stone and lava and water and _everything_ keep him trapped from the outside world. He’s surprised that the room isn’t all that hot. He had imagined it would feel boiling and the stone warm to the touch, instead its cool, heat radiating only from the free wall. Tommy didn’t understand the science of it. He didn’t know where his fresh air supply came from or how the pipes connected to the basin of water. Tommy can see the water he’d landed in is already tinged pink. Tommy looks down at his hands and sees he’s still covered in blood. 

For a moment his heart skips a beat, a spike of terror as he reaches to his neck, relief for a moment as he finds two bandanas. 

The relief disappears as he recalls why one is covered in blood. 

Tommy can hear crying; hysterical, hiccuping sobs, desperate gasps for air. It’s the only sound piercing the muffling of the lava and he realizes it’s him. He’s the only thing that can break this quiet and he can barely breathe. Tommy returns to the pool of water, knees giving out beneath him as he desperately tries to wash away the blood. These messy sobs won’t go away, the blood sticks to his hands and he’s covered in it. He still can’t breathe, he can’t think, he can only try and wring the blood out of the bandana, even as it coagulates and stains. It’s drenched his shirt, the blood having dried and made it stick to his skin. 

“F-Fuck…” Tommy stammers, lip trembling against his bidding and tears still cutting through the dried blood marring his face. A shuddering inhale, a whimpering exhale. He cannot find calm. He is utterly alone and only now can he break down, not simply break, but crumble, fall to pieces in this empty space and fight down the bile rising in his throat at the thought that Tubbo was a corpse doomed to rot alone in that wretched place. 

This room– this _cell_ – is not that small, but it is _too small._ Tommy never coped well with being trapped. He doesn’t bother shouting out that he’s claustrophobic, nor that he’s scared and he just wants to go home. He knows no one can hear him. 

He can only keep trying to wash the blood from his face, to wring out his shirt and watch the water run red. 

His shirt is still a muddied pink, the bandana still too dark. The cloth dries in the heat of the lava and it feels rough on his skin. He can only stare at his hands, at the blood still around his fingernails. Some of it is his now, his attempts to scrape the dried blood from underneath them only causing him more pain. He would rather be rough and hurt himself than know that Tubbo’s blood is still on him. 

“Why… Why, why, _why_ wasn’t it me…” Tommy’s throat feels tight, so much time spent desperately inhaling dry air through tears and his voice is so hoarse. “Fuck– It should’ve been me!” Tommy doesn’t know who he’s screaming at. _No one is listening._

“W-Why couldn’t he kill me?!” His words do not echo in this cell, the outside world not hollow but dense with molten rock, his pleas are absorbed into stone, unrelenting, unmerciful. Tommy’s begging is a lie in itself. He wishes he had died instead, but how could he ever condemn Tubbo to his current fate? Why did they have to suffer like this at all? 

“It isn’t _fair!_ ” Tommy punches the obsidian wall with everything he has. He cries out, tears rising again despite him thinking he’d surely run out. His knuckles must be broken. His hand looks reddish orange in the light from the lava, but his damaged skin would soon turn purple. Tommy slowly looks up at the source of that warm light. 

“Am I fuckin’ stupid..?” Tommy stares at the wall of lava, his knuckles still throbbing painfully. His exit had been pouring down the far wall this whole time. His way out. It would not be a pleasant way to go, but he had considered it more than once before. 

It’s too easy to consider it again now. 

He knew it would hurt, to fall forward into a burning hot void. He was only surprised by how little. It is far from the gentle itch of lava when he had drunk a fire resistance potion, but it is not an agonizing death. 

In fact, it is not a death at all. Tommy is falling again. Then he hits the water. He refocuses on the bloody water around him and the dark of the cell and the unyielding wall of lava still ahead of him. 

He shouldn’t be here. _He shouldn’t have come back._

Tommy is gripped by a new panic as another way out is sealed off from him. He takes a running start, only just flinching as he hits the lava again. He can’t scream or react or struggle as he burns, but even this pain ends, and yet again he’s in freefall. 

“No! No– Let me out!” Tommy is screaming into the empty air yet again like it will somehow reply. “Let me out! P-Please let me out! I-I can’t take it anymore! Let me go! F-Fuck, let me go– Why won’t it fucking kill me?!” Yet again Tommy slammed his fist into unyielding obsidian. His knuckles, healed just like his burns when he fell back into place, break again. He can’t stop himself. He throws himself against the wall, banging his fists against it like this will end it more easily than the lava, like he’s trying to replace the bruises Dream gave him and Sam took away. Over and over again, throwing himself against the wall until his vision blurs, his legs give out beneath him, his whole body aches. 

When he is too exhausted to continue to make his knuckles bleed, he curls in a ball on the floor wondering how many bones he’d broken in the past hysterical hours. He is not crying again, but breathing feels so much harder, every inhale it feels like his ribs are closing in tighter around him. 

He just wants someone to hold him, to tell him everything will be okay. He just wants his Tubbo back. 

_What am I without you?_

_Yourself._

“Yeah look where that’s got you… What’s the fuckin’ point in being _myself_ in a fucking cage…” 

This is a world without false hope but maybe false hope is better than no hope at all. Not that Tommy has the luxury of knowing if there was a difference. Here, he has no notions of resurrection or power or freedom. There is only the obsidian and the lava and the empty expanse of time ahead of him.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read this– why? also I'm sorry. Also thank you <3


End file.
